


Love Found

by vaderina



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Auror Family, Domestic Violence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective aurors, domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 05:02:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13756872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaderina/pseuds/vaderina
Summary: Everyone thinks that the relationship and marriage Percival and his wife have is something to work towards as an ideal. But over time small things start to crop up, unexplained injuries that are brushed off. Doubts about the perfection of their marriage start to arise.





	Love Found

**Author's Note:**

> While there is no cheating in this fic, emotional attachments are formed while a marriage is still in place. So if you're sensitive to that read with caution.

The marriage was considered a good match. It had been arranged by the parents and despite the misgivings of a few dour gossipers it had lasted close to twenty years already. Of course people still liked to dissect the lives of the Graves family, how there was no apparent heir and how it was too late now for them to be thinking of children. Of course Percival and his wife ignored them, continued about their lives and those who knew them adored them. Mrs. Graves was a socialite by all definitions, cool with the aurors at functions but she charmed all the higher-ups and important people. She helped paved the way for Percival in meetings while the man himself seemingly doted on her, fulfilling her every whim, sometimes before she even got a chance to voice them. They weren’t an overly affectionate couple, no overt displays of affection but those who moved in the same circles as them swooned over how attentive Percival was to his wife’s needs.

The aurors too were enamoured with them, elevating their boss to the level of ideal relationship goals. Occasionally there would be a mutter of something not seeming quite right but those were quickly quashed by the avid fans of their perfect relationship. The pedestal got higher and higher as Percival seemed to work his long hours only to go home and spoil his wife with small gifts and weekends away. Every gala they attended she seemed to wear a new gown made of finer silk and richer colours.

The department had wrapped up a largescale case of dismantling the eastern arm of an organised crime family. It had been an all-night affair of moving into position, waiting for the perfect moment to strike across all locations. The fighting had been short but brutal and it was followed by the lengthy process of booking all criminals before everyone could head home for a few hours before the next day started. In typical fashion the following evening was the fundraising gala for the department of security. Every auror was invited to the meal and dance after as a show of appreciation while donors would chat to them in order to satisfy themselves with where their money was going. Of course Percival and his wife were hotly anticipated guests.

The evening came, Percival looked tired, much like the rest of the department who had been working so late the previous day. Nevertheless he held an arm out for his wife and led her round to make introductions where needed. He slipped away to get her a drink and people around the room cooed at how wonderful he was. The gracious, tired smiles Percival gave people as he grabbed drinks from one of the punchbowls spoke volumes about his fatigue. It only served to fan the flames of appreciation of those around him more. Once by his wife’s side again Percival waited for a break in her conversation before he offered a glass. She took it daintily and gave it a sniff. Nobody expected her disgusted frown as she pushed the glass back at him, sloshing the drink over his sleeve.

“This is Planter’s Punch. You know I can’t stand that stuff. I wanted Bajan Rum Punch. Get me the correct one this time.” She sneered and Percival took the offending glass with a sigh.

“Sorry dear.” People around them murmured as he made his way back to the punch bowls. He’d barely had time to put the glasses down before she was next to him.

“I want to dance.” His wife announced and Percival sighed. Dutifully he led her to the dancefloor but nobody could miss the way he drooped a little, his steps not quite as clean and precise as usual. It was only a matter of time before he stepped on the tail of her dress and she glared at him even as he apologised.

“I’m just tired. Sorry.” His apology was brushed off as his wife left to find a different dance partner. Percival sat down heavily in one of the chairs and rubbed his eyes in exhaustion.

“Getting into trouble are you?” Delego joked as he sat down next to him.

“Something like that.” Percival shrugged with a wry smile.

“She seems very uptight tonight, everything okay?” Delego pushed and Percival stared at him. There was a sad distant look in his eyes even as he reassured his subordinate that everything was fine back home. The dance ended and Percival’s wife appeared.

“Where’s my drink?” she demanded. In response Percival stood up, fighting back the groan of pushing his tired muscles into motion. On his return he stood by his wife’s side with a glass in hand. Nobody could be blamed for what happened next, Percival’s wife turned while Percival’s attention was elsewhere. Her elbow caught his hand and the drink went tumbling, covering the front of her mint green silk dress with an ugly stain. There was no cleaning spell that would have been able to get the drink completely out.

“Look at what you’d done! You clumsy oaf!” She cried, hand brushing against her dress in vain. Percival apologised, cleaning spells useless as the silk remained stained a dreadful brown. “Home. Now. I can’t be seen like this.” She ordered and grabbed Percival by the arm. Perhaps it was because he was so tired but Percival didn’t put up a fight, he let his wife say her goodbyes, one arm clenches in his, the other around his waist. His momentary grimace of pain was seen by few and brushed off just as quickly. Together he and his wife made their way home and the party continued.

The rumour mill was alight the next day with his mishaps. A few gleeful ill-wishers sneered about Percival failing at the work-life balance which someone his age really ought to have together by then. It was by fluke that it was a duelling training day that day, Percival joined the aurors in drills, sparring sessions and one on one duels. In the changing room after the truly knackering exercises in what was a really exhausting week, as Percival slipped his shirt on, the singlet he was wearing rode up and O’Brien whistled.

“Someone catch you in the kidney boss?” Percival tugged his top down and hastily shrugged his shirt on.

“Something like that.”

“Looked more like a pinch. Remember the time that burglar got Fontaine in the side? You’ve got the same two pronged swirl pattern.”

“It must have been a spell I didn’t deflect properly. I’m fine. But thank you for noticing.” Percival hurried out of the changing rooms which erupted in a low buzz. The bruise was definitely not remnants of an errant spell, nor did it look like Percival had knocked into something. Someone floated the memory of Mrs. Graves’ hand around Percival’s waist the previous evening when they left. An uneasy silence filled the room as people tried to come up with any other reason their boss could have a bruise from a pinch on his side. Nobody said any more and quiet chatter slowly took over the room again.

There was no reason to suspect anything was amiss really. Percival continued as he had been before and nobody mentioned the incident. Newt returned to help MACUSA with rewriting their laws on beasts and creatures. The aurors took him into their fold with ease, helped along by his easy going nature and willingness to care about almost anything and anyone. It was inevitable - given Newt’s sharp eye and the aurors’ incessant worrying - that they would soon see the cracks in Percival’s almost perfectly assembled façade.

“Do you think he’s okay?” Newt asked one lunchtime addressing the table at large.

“He’s no different to usual.” Fontaine replied but all eyes tracked Percival as he went to the self service station for his lunch. There really was nothing out of the ordinary as he picked his food, paid and made his way to a small empty table.

“Watch.” Newt hissed. All eyes were on their boss who sat down with a mild wince. If anybody had seen it they could have chalked it up to anything from an age related twinge to disappointment having forgotten his napkin. “He’s been favouring his left side all morning. It’s not overly visible but keep an eye out and you’ll see.”

For the rest of the day the aurors watched their boss like a hawk. It was true, what Newt had said, Percival did indeed favour his left side just a fraction. It lasted a few days before it stopped and people began to mutter again. There wasn’t enough evidence to ask him about it without sounding too nosy but it certainly opened up their eyes a little.

Over the course of the following weeks there were other little incidents which set the aurors on edge. In a meeting Percival’s cuff slid up and very briefly the purple bruising of what could have been fingertips around his wrists flashed. Without comment Percival tugged his sleeve down and continued the meeting as though nothing had happened and nobody dared bring it back up by the time there was a moment to do so.

More worrying though was the week Percival spent with his scarf around his neck, voice hoarse. He told people it was just a sore throat, he drank honeyed tea which Newt offered him and got on with his work. But his subordinates worried. There were no chills, no sneezes, no coughing even to go with the alleged sore throat. Percival’s insistence that he was fine sounded more desperate. More like he was trying to convince himself along with everyone else. Towards the end of the week his secretary joined them on a coffee break where, when quizzed she haltingly mumbled about what could have been bruises peeking out from under the scarf one evening. But the light was bad and it could have been shadows. In fact, it almost definitely was because why would their director have bruises around his neck when he hadn’t even been out on a case recently? The aurors shared a look over her head.

The next time true worry set in was when Percival took a few days off work through ill health. When he finally returned to work he had a visible limp, his ankle bandaged and secured while his arm was held in place by a sling.

“I wasn’t paying attention. Fell down some stairs, twisted my ankle and dislocated my shoulder. Nothing to worry about. I was just clumsy.” He shooed away worried offers of help with a rueful smile. That lunch time the usual group of aurors, plus Newt, and Percival’s secretary sat together.

“The injuries do match a tumble down some stairs.” Newt sighed.

“But he’s not the type to fall. What if he was pushed?” Fontaine argued in a hushed voice.

“How can we ask him?”

“We don’t.” Delego butted in, mouth pressed into a firm line. “He’s a grown man, he can look after himself. If he needs help he can ask for it.”

“Don’t be an ass.” O’Brien growled. “You know it’s not as easy as that.”

Murmurs of agreement sounded from around the table. Everyone looked at Newt.

“The boss likes you. You’re not his subordinate. Why don’t you ask?”

After a lot of toing and froing Newt finally shuffled up to Percival when the man was getting himself another coffee. He tried to smile at him but nerves were getting the better of him.

“You okay?” Newt settled on eventually. Percival looked at him with a small smile of his own.

“About as good as can be expected.”

“You don’t strike me as the kind to take such a tumble.” Newt gestured to his injuries and reached to get himself a mug too.

“Even the best of us make mistakes.” Percival huffed as though he’d told a bitter joke and turned. “Thank you for your concern Newt. But really, it’s nothing I can’t manage.”

Over time the sling came off, and Percival’s limp became less pronounced. However his aurors’ concerns didn’t abate. They kept a sharp eye on their boss, worried for him in a way that didn’t feel right. It wasn’t everyone in the department who was growing wary of idolising the relationship their boss seemed to have. Some people were still avid supporters of their marriage but there were enough people questioning things that there was a slowly growing divide in the department.

Something else was also driving a stake down the middle of the department. Almost unintentionally Newt and Percival began orbiting each other. Their friendship had blossomed into something vibrant. People began to notice Percival’s smile and laugh around the other man. The almost bashful looks and blushes when Newt complimented him. There was a faux nonchalance the day Percival threw something at Newt as he walked by with a small grin. It was a charmed pendant that absorbed the impact of some curses. From then on it was fairly usual to see the two men exchanging small gifts, laugh at jokes over a coffee and at times Newt would sit with Percival at lunch rather than the aurors. The biggest shock was when Percival sat at their table when a seat became vacant next to Newt. Of course it set tongues wagging. Newt the homewrecker, Percival throwing away a perfectly wonderful marriage for a fling with a young foreigner who probably only wanted his prestige and protection. It was all low level grumblings that didn’t seem to filter back to Percival or Newt. Or if it did they just didn’t care.

So of course when all of a sudden Percival distanced himself from Newt without any obvious reason the aurors cornered Newt who shrugged sadly.

“It is what it is.” Was all he’d said on the matter and walked away. It was an accident in the department that conjured up the torrential rain that soaked everyone to the bone. Percival had been caught in it and people stared in horror as the rain washed away the concealer around his eye to reveal a livid bruise. The aurors watched as Newt and Percival’s eyes met across the room both soaked to the bone. Newt raised a hand to his cheek where Percival’s bruise was. Immediately Percival’s own hand flew to his cheek, eyes wide. By the time the rain was stopped everybody had seen the bruising around Percival’s eye but nobody dared say anything. It made sense that he’d use make-up rather than a glamour to conceal it, the charm would have been too easy to detect and a bother to maintain throughout the day. Once all the water had been spelled away it was Queenie who appeared in the department with a sad smile. She walked up to Percival and took his arm to gently guide him away from prying eyes, her bag swinging off her arm. When she and Percival emerged from his office again the bruise was once more expertly covered and Queenie looked more anguished than she had been going in. At lunchtime the aurors cornered her.

“What happened?”

“He didn’t say. Just accepted my offer of make-up but did it all himself.” Queenie replied, she shared a look with Tina and shook her head, no matter how hard she had tried she couldn’t read his mind.

“Was it Newt?” O’Brien asked and people around him gasped.

“No. I asked him that too. He just laughed and said Newt would never hurt him. He said something about love but I didn’t quite catch it.” Mutters from the aurors went around until Newt joined them.

“He’s far too practiced at it, isn’t he?” He asked and Queenie nodded biting her lip. The aurors stared at him and were appalled in quiet horror at the implication. Percival had covered up bruises like that far too often and they’d never even noticed.

“Is there anything we can do?” Fontaine asked.

“Until he’s ready there’s nothing. I tried. I think I just got him into even more trouble.” Newt sighed. Everyone nodded and quietly dispersed, worried about their boss.

It was another gala where things came to a head. Percival and his wife were dancing, gracefully poised as they flowed through the motions. Across the room Newt was chatting to Delego but his eyes kept drifting to Percival who gazed back at him whenever he could.

“Will you stop eyeing up that man like he was a piece of meat for you to rut against.” Mrs. Graves chastised Percival. Immediately his eyes snapped back to his wife, shame colouring his cheeks.

“Sorry.” He muttered and led her into a twirl.

“Not good enough. You’re making me the laughing stock of the night. People are gossiping about your fling with that man. Can’t you do anything discretely?”

“There’s nothing going on between me and Newt.” Percival replied evenly. He noticed how his aurors had started to drift towards them, sensing the confrontation.

“Don’t make me cause a scene.” Mrs. Graves snarled and stormed off the dancefloor. Percival followed like a loyal puppy.

“People talk all the time. But there’s no truth to it. There’s nothing going on between us. Can we please not do this now? I don’t want another argument.” Percival asked voice low but some people still heard him. It seemed to appease his wife who turned to smile and greet an acquaintance by the food table. Percival reached for a plate.

“Don’t eat any more. You’ll get fat.” Mrs. Graves snapped at him. Reluctantly Percival put the plate back down and cast a longing gaze at the food. He hadn’t touched any of it all evening and it seemed he wouldn’t get to either. He stood next to his wife, occasionally passing a pleasant comment on the evening when addressed but otherwise he was a silent sombre shadow of his wife.

Things seemed to settle but the aurors were still within reaching distance of Percival, something about the night felt too off. Newt kept a careful distance but even he seemed to be hovering closer than he’d allowed himself before. For her part Mrs. Graves seemed to be having a wonderful time chatting and dancing away.

“Stop looking at him.” Her voice was sickly sweet and Percival tore his eyes from the ground.

“I wasn’t.” His reply was tired. “I really don’t want a confrontation now. Please can’t we just have a good time for once?”

“I will not have you make me the centre of gossip with your errant ways. Lusting after someone so below you.”

“Like you and Collingwood?” Percival’s sharp reply was followed by his eyes widening with shock. Nobody expected the sharp backhand that struck him across the cheek, his wife reddening with rage.

“Don’t you dare!” she screeched, advancing on her husband who brought his arms up to protect him face from further blows. However it left his torso open and she heartlessly punched him in the stomach. Percival doubled over silently. The aurors ran. They weren’t far but they’d seen enough. As one they formed a human shield around Percival, protecting him not just from the assault but also prying eyes. Newt was urging him to sit down on the floor. Delego and O’Brien took a step towards Mrs. Graves.

“I suggest you come with us quietly.” Delego growled. The entire hall was silent as they watched Mrs. Graves be escorted while the aurors fussed over Percival. His face was blotchy when he finally stood up, arms reached to steady him but he brushed them off.

“My apologies for that.” Percival said, voice only a little shaky. “Please excuse me but I must get home.”

Fontaine gently grasped his elbow to stop him from leaving.

“Let’s go upstairs for a bit. You can press charges.”

“I will do no such thing.” Percival replied and let out a long breath. It was Newt who finally managed to sway him.

“At least let us check over you before you go. I don’t think you want everyone in the room staring at you, do you?”

The aurors flanked their boss and Newt as they made their way up, nobody said anything. Once upstairs they pulled up a chair for Percival to sit on and stood around helpless while Newt looked over him.

“Fontaine, could you please get a mug of hot tea.” Newt’s voice was soft and it pulled everyone’s attention. That’s when they noticed that Percival’s hands were shaking, his eyes wet and his bottom lip firmly clasped between teeth to stop its wobbles. A hand on his shoulder urged Percival to bend forward and that’s when the sobs started. Nobody knew what to say, what to do. Their boss hiccupped as he sat, wet sniffs and chocked off cries of anguish filled the room. Even Newt looked a little lost as he tried to offer what little comfort he could to Percival.

“It’s not your fault.” Newt murmured in his ear. Fontaine appeared with the tea and after a moment Percival looked up, wiped his face on his sleeve and took the mug with a croak of thanks.

“It is my fault.” He whispered. “I let it happen. She’s so much smaller than me. I’m the Director of Magical Security, Head of the DMLE. I should be able to defend myself.”

No amount of convincing otherwise seemed to sway Percival, he was adamant that he was at fault. Even when O’Brien and Delego joined them he demanded that they release his wife from custody. That it was all simply a misunderstanding. It was only when Delego began listing all the injuries they’d catalogued that Percival fell silent. He listened and drank his tea with resignation.

“What do I do?” he asked quietly when the aurors had finished listing their worries.

“It’s not going to be easy. But you can stay with me for a little while until you find your feet again.” Newt offered and Percival visibly flinched.

“I can’t. I’m sorry Newt, I can’t. What will people say?” Percival’s voice shook. “And I can’t do that now. I don’t know if I can trust you or me. Not with something serious.”

“You can stay with me then.” O’Brien offered. “Nobody will talk about that. And when everything is over and dealt with, you and Newt can do whatever you please.”

It was a start at least. Newt was right, it wasn’t easy and people did talk. But eventually things got better. The day Percival walked up to Newt’s desk with a bouquet of flowers in his hands and a shy smile the aurors sighed in relief.

 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, come find me on tumblr - @ladyoftheshrimp


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